


Do You Ever Wish...

by DoodlesOfTheMind



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodlesOfTheMind/pseuds/DoodlesOfTheMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A doodle on the theme "understated emotion."</p><p>Itachi has just learned that he may be forced to annihilate his clan if he cannot end the threat of an Uchiha coup d'etat. He has always longed for a life outside of the deadly shinobi politics that he has navigated so well through the years, and it is this that reminds him why he will never, can never, have such a luxury.</p><p>Shisui has always been a favorite of the head family. He saved their firstborn son's life in the last weeks of the Third Shinobi War, and ever since then, taking care of Itachi has simply been a part of life. Not that the young heir required much taking care of, but Shisui was there for the little things that others often overlooked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Ever Wish...

Shisui frowned, searching the Uchiha estate frantically for Itachi. It wasn’t exactly unusual for the young ANBU soldier to disappear without a trace, and no one worried over him when he did, but the elder Uchiha was the exception to a lot of rules where his future clan Lord was concerned. He was one of perhaps three people in Konoha who had saved Itachi’s life in the past. As far as he knew, he was the only one Itachi considered a friend, rather than a comrade or an acquaintance. He was certain that he was the only one who had ever seen the prodigy cry. Not that Itachi could truly hide his feelings from a sensor of Shisui's ability, but he thought it was telling that the stoic boy didn't even bother to try.

A white summon-cat appeared beside him, effortlessly dodging away from the shinobi’s startled kick. Tsukiko turned her unnerving emerald eyes on him in reproach, but she didn’t maul him for it. With the temperamental cat, this was a bad sign; she may have been ordered to serve him, but she was fickle and prideful. She would be more trouble than she was worth if it weren’t for her uncanny ability to track Itachi through the bond of her contract with the head family, even when he didn’t want to be found.

“You should not be so easy to sneak up on,” she purred. “You let your feelings cloud your perceptions, just as my Lord’s kitten always has. He, at least, has better reflexes.”

Shisui considered having some fresh cat meat in his stew that night, but he kept his tone respectful as he asked, “Where is he? Is he alright?”

The cat arched her tail, a gesture that indicated thought in the infuriating beast. “I forget the word. What do you call the places where civilian kittens waste their days running and playing?”

“Parks,” Shisui supplied, but his mind was already elsewhere. If Itachi was in the civilian quarter of Konoha, that was a very bad sign, worse than escaping Tsukiko’s claws. He might not be injured, but he was surely hurting in other ways.

“Parks,” she said experimentally. “It has such an odd sound to it, as most of your language does, I suppose. Yes, Itachi-sama is at one of these parks.”

Unwilling to bother prying more information out of the creature, Shisui took off, using the shunshin to cover the distance between the Uchiha lands and the southern quarter of Konoha, at least a two hour walk, in less than ten minutes. He calmed his mind and reached out, his senses questing for a hint of Itachi’s chakra. He didn’t feel it, of course. What self-respecting ANBU would allow himself to be tracked by such a rudimentary method? With an annoyed sigh, he forced himself to recall a basic map of this section of Konoha. It was rather shoddy, considering how rarely he had cause to visit such a place, but he knew where some of the larger parks were.

He hit the right one on the second try. He hadn’t set one foot off the stone path and into the grass before he felt Itachi flare his chakra twice, acknowledging that he was aware of Shisui’s presence, but also stating that he wasn’t moving unless it was absolutely urgent. The elder Uchiha still didn’t know how Itachi was always able to sense when he was near, but he had never _once_ managed to surprise the younger boy. _He’s our little tensai,_ Shisui thought grimly as he leapt into the tree that concealed him.

Kami, the boy looked like hell. Had he slept at all last night? His already pale skin was ashen. His obsidian eyes were slightly reddened, and not with the Sharingan, and he was curled up as far as his slender frame would allow, his knees drawn up to his chin. He looked like an errant breeze could sweep him off the narrow branch and throw him to the ground, and though his chakra was locked down so tightly that Shisui couldn’t catch a hint of his emotions, he thought that Itachi would let it happen without a fuss. Most telling, Itachi was completely unarmed. A quick glance confirmed that his blade, his kunai holsters, and even the little backup knife he kept sheathed in his boot were nowhere to be found.

“What are you doing out here, ‘Tachi?” he asked, his voice gentle despite the urge to lecture the little baka for endangering himself like this.

“Do you ever wish we were like them?” Itachi whispered. His eyes were still fixed on the scene below, where a group of kids, maybe seven or eight years old, were playing some silly game that involved kicking a tiny bean bag back and forth. Apparently there were only three rules: don’t use your hands, don’t let it hit the ground, and show off as much as you can.

Shisui frowned. Wish that he was so helpless, so ignorant of the world around himself? The little brats didn’t even know they were being observed by one of the deadliest warriors Konohagakure no Sato had ever produced. Uchiha Itachi had graduated the Academy in a single year, had made Chuunin before he was ten, and barely a year later, the young veteran had been selected for ANBU. He was something of a living legend to the shinobi of Konoha, particularly the Academy students and new Genin. A soldier their own age who had already won honor in battle countless times even before his storied exploits under the Crow mask, because who else could the miniature ANBU be? Every little boy with a blunt practice sword in his hand dreamed of being Uchiha Itachi.

“No, I have never wished that, but I think I understand why you might,” he said after a while.

Itachi’s shoulders sagged just a little, and Shisui carefully pulled him back so he could lay against the older shinobi’s chest. Itachi resisted briefly, but then he surrendered to the insistent tug at his shoulders. “I’m angry, Shisui-nii-san,” he said, leaning his head against Shisui’s collarbone.

The way he said the words, so quietly and utterly devoid of emotion, meant that they were true. Shisui let one of his arms rest across Itachi’s chest, feeling the way his even breathing was just a little too calm. He deliberately avoided touching Itachi’s skin, not wanting to use his talent as a sensor to intrude on his mind without invitation. "Why?"

“I am also angry at myself for being angry,” Itachi mused. “I would serve no purpose in such a life as theirs, and yet part of me desires it anyway. Foolish, ne?”

"You met with Danzo-sama again,” Shisui stated flatly. Itachi always got like this when he had been working too closely with a fringe group of ANBU known as Root. Little was known about the organization, aside from the fact that they took exceptionally gifted children and taught them things that would make a battle-hardened Jounin shudder. Their agents were always a little damaged, a little unstable, but they were also lethal and unquestionably loyal, and in the eyes of many, that excused a lot of things. In the eyes of many, but not in Shisui’s.

“I’ve been offered Captaincy of my own squad within Root,” Itachi said, closing his eyes as if to hide from the words. “I do not wish to accept.”

Shisui swept a stray strand of hair back from Itachi’s cheek with the back of his gloved hand. “Is that why you came here, then?”

“To remind myself why I must not refuse,” Itachi murmured.

“Thoughts like that will be the death of you, chibi,” Shisui said. He heard the undisguised bitterness in his own voice and winced. He had been like Itachi once, a talented shinobi propelled through the ranks far more quickly than anyone had anticipated. He had always harbored a sort of derisive jealousy toward his civilian agemates. They were weak, helpless, pathetic, and yet...they were happy. They didn’t have to face death and fear and pain every day until the end finally, inevitably caught up with them. They didn’t see the faces of their broken comrades and the lives that they had let slip through their fingers every time they looked in the mirror. When the chaos of battle swallowed them, they could cover their eyes with the warm knowledge that someone else would take care of them and their loved ones.

“I fully expect them to be,” Itachi said, and his voice shook ever so slightly.

They sat there for what felt like hours, Shisui’s arms wrapped lightly around Itachi’s torso. Itachi seemed so lost as he rested his fingertips absently against Shisui’s exposed ankle. The sudden physical contact allowed Shisui to sense his chakra clearly, and the pain of it almost made him recoil. Beneath that perfect calm, there was a storm building, and Itachi was adrift in the center of it, clinging to the battered, sinking ship of his iron control.

The boy seemed to realize what he’d done and jerked back, murmuring quiet apologies until Shisui put a finger over his lips. “The promotion’s conditional, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice a little raw.

Itachi’s silence was answer enough.

“What do you have to do?”

"Nothing for perhaps another year. If I am very fortunate, not even then,” Itachi said, but he wouldn’t look at him.

"‘Tachi...” Shisui began, but the boy turned and laid a small, warm hand against Shisui’s chest.

“Please, do not make this harder than it must be,” he said. “If you tell me that I do not have to go through with it, I may not be able to.”

Shisui fell silent, but he held Itachi tighter against him. They sat and watched the civilians play their silly game until the sun sank down behind the western wall and concerned parents came to tear them away from their entertainment into the safety of their homes. After all, little children shouldn’t have to face the perils of darkness.

Shisui looked down to see that Itachi had fallen deeply asleep against him, and his lips quirked up in a sad smile. For a shinobi of Itachi’s caliber to trust him enough to sleep in his presence was highly unusual, but then, Tsukiko had said that Itachi’s superior abilities were enough to make up for these little slips. Still, Shisui held him close, and he allowed himself to wonder what it might have been like if the two of them had not been born to the name Uchiha.

He liked the picture he saw.

**Author's Note:**

> Potentially the jumping-off point for an AU story about Itachi and Shisui. Who wants me to run with it?


End file.
